


Insist on Making Complications

by mm8



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: American History, American Revolution, Angst, Background Relationships, Biting, Community: love_bingo, Community: wintercompanion, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Heartbreak, Historical, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Post Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, Pre Episode: s07e06 The Snowmen, Time Travel, Torchwood References, Unhappy Ending, aborted sex, minor Bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grieving the loss of his companions, the TARDIS takes the Doctor to colonial America to meet an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insist on Making Complications

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fluffyllama (Llama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/gifts).



> This was written for [flufflyllama](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama) at the 2013 Spring Gift Exchange at [wintercompanion](http://wintercompanion.livejournal.com/). My beta was the wonderful [drarryxlover](http://drarryxlover.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I got the title from this quote: "Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated."-Confucius

_8 July 1776, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

The bells had been ringing for several minutes now and were getting on the Doctor's nerves. If he was blind and couldn't see the throng of people rushing toward the State House or if the old girl hadn't told him the date he'd have thought he had tinnitus. 

He took a swig of the ale he was carrying and swished it around his mouth before deciding that he didn't like the taste of it after all and spitting it out on the side of the cobblestone path. After the Doctor spit out his ale he noticed that someone was dumping their trash, from a high up window in the exact same spot. He cringed a little. Oh well, when in Rome, yes? As he passed a street vendor, who was urging him to buy some of his medical wares, leeches and some foul concoction that was labeled 'Dr. Brush's Purging Liquid, Satisfaction Guaranteed'. Well, perhaps not always when in Rome then.

When he reached the square, Colonel Nixon wasn't far into the reading the reading of the new Declaration of Independence from Great Britain. The crowd cheered. Cries of 'huzzah' accompanied by arms waved in merriment. 

America, the Doctor smiled, was being born. 

If only someone else could be with him to experience this.

If only Amy and Rory weren't…

He frowned deeply and turned away from the thunderous roars and of the constant ringing of the bells. Back to the TARDIS then. The Doctor pushed his way through the crowd, not caring about the glares and curses he received. He was downright angry. This was a joyous occasion; the people's attitude was infectious. 

This was a monumental event in history. 

Yet it didn't matter.

It'd only been a month since Manhattan. He didn't feel whole anymore. Nothing felt _right_. Every time the TARDIS tried to drop him off somewhere, it always ended up like this. He'd pop out, scan the area to determine where he was, deemed it boring and popped back into the TARDIS. 

Truth be told, every time he stepped out of the TARDIS now he kept looking for his Ponds. Their place should be right by his side getting into mischief with the British royal family (the thought that Amy was his mother-in-law _twice_ was a shuddering one) and running ahead to pick locks on doors, ask the locals prying questions. The only place that the TARDIS had taken the Doctor that he had thought somewhat interesting had been to the diamond coral reefs of Katta Flo Ko. But he didn't enjoy himself at all. His mind was plagued by the 'what-ifs' he could have taken his companions here. Amy would have thought that the reefs were cool at first but she'd tire of them quickly, needing action and adventure. Rory would be interested in the phytotomy of the coral, asking all the right questions, his tongue not working fast enough for his brain, his words would stumble over each other and Amy would _laugh_.

It felt as though his right arm was gone; hacked off at the shoulder with a rusty blade. He still functioned as if the arm was there like most quadriplegics; but it wasn't. Amy and Rory were gone and he'd never see them again.

He didn't know why he felt this way. Companions had left before, lost all their memories of him in the past and had even died because of him. Why were the Ponds so different?

River had left a week ago. She had her own personal grieving to do, but on the inside, the Doctor felt like she had abandoned him. They had been distant since the incident at the graveyard; they shared only the briefest of touches and words. The morning he had woken up alone in their bed to find just a note on her pillow that said 'See you sooner than you think, Sweetie', the Doctor didn't have enough tears left in him to cry. He didn't blame her for leaving. Everyone left in the end.

The Doctor turned back to the crowd when he reached his blue box. The Americans, because they were _Americans_ now, had begun to sing and the children danced.

Amy and Rory would have hated this.

That was when he noticed it. It was a glimpse but that was all he needed. It was something that didn't belong on the Earth in the eighteenth century. A flash of a wool, greatcoat in the distance, flapping as the wearer of the coat breezed through the gathering. A greatcoat from World War II. A greatcoat that the Doctor was very familiar with. He had to get there before it was too late.

He ran.

The Doctor ignored the shouts of insults as he pushed his way through the excited mass. All he heard was the sound of his leather shoes hitting the cobblestone and the blood rushing to his ears as his twin hearts thudded against his chest. His eyes were trained on the greatcoat. He turned down Chestnut Street, his adrenaline pumping harder. The Doctor could see the back of the head of the owner of the greatcoat now, short, styled dark hair. No, not of this time period.

Three steps… he almost had him.

Two steps…

One.

The Doctor grabbed a handful of the greatcoat, forcing the owner to turn around. God, his face. He hadn't aged.

"Hey pal, I don't—" Jack's sharp eyes widened and his face relaxed. "Doctor?"

They embraced; the Doctor buried his face in Jack's shoulder, inhaling the scent of sweat and dust. The Time Lord closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the Captain, rubbing the wool fabric between his thumb and forefinger. It felt familiar. 

Jack suggested that they go to the City Tavern on Second Street. It was a popular location; the Doctor knew that many of the famous delegates of the Continental Congress dined there. On their way they walked arm-in-arm. No one seemed to care; everyone was too caught up in the moment of Independence. 

When they reached the crowded tavern, the Doctor was surprised that Jack had already rented a room upstairs for the week so immediately when they entered they bypassed the drunken men and women and headed for Jack's single bed room. 

The instant the door shut behind him, Jack was on him. His fingers, lips, teeth. They were everywhere at once possessing him, owning him. The Doctor felt Jack's arousal against his hip and it was so amazing. He doesn't remember anyone, not even River, being this way. So primal toward him. He _ached_. The Doctor concluded to do the one thing he rarely did.

The Time Lord pulled Jack pulled his body and gave into his desires.

_9 July 1776, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania_

The bells rang to signal that it had gone past midnight and then it went quiet. Downstairs the rowdy crowd still sang songs and cheered uproariously. In Jack's tiny room their clothes, a mix of twentieth century and eighteenth century were strewn about. 

"You've changed your face again," Jack said as he stroked the Doctor's hair and cheeks, studying his new features.

"Only the one time since you last saw me."

"Is that what your normally wear?" Jack asked, his head nodded over to some of the Doctor's attire, including the breeches and clean white stockings. 

"Oh no! I wanted a little ambiguity for a change. I usually wear a bow tie!" He smiled brightly. "And a fez sometimes! Oh and Stetsons when I visit America. Stetsons are cool."

Jack grinned cheekily. "Is that _all_ you wear?" 

The Doctor laughed and playfully pushed the Captain away, before pulling him back into a fierce, heated kiss. His hands wandered southward and grabbed Jack's arse, massaging the perfect round globes. He could feel Jack's arousal growing once more as the Captain moaned into the kiss.

When Jack pulled back, he stared at the Doctor like he was a feast to be eaten. He grasped the Doctor's own erection and squeezed. "Good to know that you're up for round two."

They writhed against one another. Jack attacked the Doctor's throat, teasing, licking and kissing. The Time Lord couldn't help but moan like some common whore at the Captain's actions. Jack grasped both of their aching cocks and begins to pump them; the pre-cum of both of their dicks slicking Jack's hands. The Doctor screamed in pleasure as Jack bit down on where the neck connects to the shoulder, hard enough to draw a little blood. Jack kissed and licked the blood away from the wound as the Doctor thrust his hips forwards, wanting more contact with Jack's cock. He closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds and an image flashed across his mind. 

He and River sitting on the steps of Grayle's estate. Her wrist broken because of him. How she lied to him to protect his feelings. 

Why, why was he thinking about that _now_?

"Stop," the Doctor protested. He pulled away from his sometimes lover's advances and batted Jack's hand away from his now half-hard erection. "Jack, _stop_."

"Doc," Jack's face was full of confusion, his eyes narrowed, his brow creased with lines. "Doctor, what's wrong?"

The Time Lord sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He doesn't protest when Jack slid up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, his chin resting the Doctor's shoulder.

"I've changed a lot since you've last seen me." The Doctor turned his face away. "I even got myself a wife."

Jack laughed, almost in a mocking tone. "A _wife_? You? Doc, you didn't even properly tell Rose that you were in love with her. How can you be married?"

The Doctor shut his eyes; he could feel the heat behind Jack's words. It was all true of course. He'd never told River he loved her either. Honestly he barely knew her. Yes, he'd seen her die, seen her as a baby (well…), and she'd even tried to murder him. 

They kept their identical diaries and kept in sporadic communication but he didn't really _know_ River Song. He didn't know what her favorite color was, if she was allergic to anything, of if she have any irrational fears? 

River just called his name and he came like a dog to his owner. Every time. Yet he made a commitment to her. One he could never make to Rose. It was a commitment that Rory and Amy were able to make to each other as well. _Until death do us part_.

 _"I was able to marry River because I don't love her,"_ he wanted to answer. But he stayed silent.

"How would she feel about this?" Jack's voice was sensitive. "About you meeting up with an old friend and having sex _him_?"

"River?"

"Is that her name?"

The Doctor nods. "River? Well, she…" He raked his hands through his impossibly unkempt hair. "She wouldn't mind really. We always meet here and there. Sort of like us, really. Sort of like you."

He felt Jack tense behind him and instantly knew that he had chosen the wrong words. 

"What are you implying?"

The Doctor stumbled over his words, fidgeting and gestured with his hands. "Oh y-you know? Nothing really. I-it's just that you and River are from the fifty first century. Well, she's from the fifty second actually. People from your era are accustomed to a different sort of lifestyle. Which includes getting around a lot…"

Jack retreated and sat beside the Time Lord, his face oddly neutral. "What are you trying to say?"

The Doctor pushed his lips together as if to will himself to not to say the words. He chewed on his bottom lip and gazed back at Jack, who was still staring at him with a harden expression. "Jack, don't make me say it."

"What? That I've fucked more than one person? That since I've had my share of lovers that I can't—"

"Jack, _please_." _How did this go so wrong?_ "Jack, I never _said_ \--"

"But you thought it, didn't you?"

"Why did you think I _gave_ you Alonso?" He regretted the words before they ever left his mouth.

Jack gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "Is… is that what you think of me? Do you think so _low_ of me that I'm some sort of glorified prostitute?" Jack looked down at his bare lap, how his hands were curled into fists. He inhaled and exhaled a few times, almost in a meditative state before gaining the courage to look up at the Doctor once more. "You still think it after all these years that I can't care about you or anyone else." A statement, not a question. "Why, Doctor? Why? Just tell me whatever I did—"

"How's your chap?" The Doctor can feel the tell-tale signs of pricking in the back of his eyes and he does his best to suppress the feeling. "Ianto was it? Why are you with me instead of him? In matter of fact, why aren't with back running Torchwood in the twenty first century? What? Got tired of him—"

The Doctor wasn't allowed to say any other stinging words because at that moment Jack threw a nasty right hook across the Doctor's cheek, throwing him backwards onto the floor. The Time Lord stared up at the Captain, who rose from the bed and stood over him, his face red with rage. 

"How _dare_ you! How—" Jack clenched his fists and pulled back his anger. "You know nothing." He went about the room, gathering up his own clothing.

The Doctor rubbed his cheek. He'd have to go back to the TARDIS and get some ice for it later. "Well, what would he think then? Your Ianto? Of us meeting up and sleeping together?"

Jack stilled, one leg stepped inside of his trousers. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "I wouldn't know. He can't say anything anymore. He died." 

Then Jack continued putting on his clothing.

The Doctor stared blankly at Jack. Any retort he thought he could have said before had died in his throat. He watched as Jack continued to dress in silence, not once even glancing at the Doctor, naked and vulnerable. When Jack was finally impeccably dressed, he turned to the Doctor, his neutral expression had returned. "Get up. Get dressed. And get out."

The Doctor's eyes widened but he said nothing. Slowly he put on his stifling clothes. He watched Jack, who was facing away from him and looking out the window. Where did they go wrong? This… _this_ should have been amazing. Mind-blowing sex and some comfort. But now… _now_.

Jack turned around when he heard the Doctor slip on his leather shoes. He escorted the Doctor to the door, his hand wavering over the small of his back. The Doctor fully expected to be shoved out of the bedroom but to his surprise, Jack stopped as they reached the door. The Captain raised his hand and gently stroked his cheek where he'd hit the Doctor earlier. Jack let his forehead fall to touchthe Doctor's. Such closeness, the Doctor wasn't expecting after they had a fight.

"I hate that I'm in love with you." Jack's voice shook.

The Doctor gulped and nodded. What else could he do?

He backed away from Jack and opened the door and walked past the threshold.

_2 November 1892, London_

The Doctor took one step out of his TARDIS. The air was cold, winter had come to London. There was fresh snow on the ground that crunched underneath his feet. It ought to have made him smile, crunchy snow. But nothing made him smile anymore. 

The old girl hummed, the panel of the wooden doors vibrated underneath his fingertips. She's trying to tell him something.

The Doctor gazed around but found that he didn't have to look far. In front of him, not far in the distance, were three figures sitting on a bench. Three figures who definitely shouldn't be in Victorian London. Strax, Vastra and Jenny simultaneously stood up from the bench and glide toward him.

"We've been expecting you, Doctor." Madame Vastra purred.

The TARDIS hummed again, and the Doctor nodded. He stepped fully out of his ship and shut the door behind him.


End file.
